Preordained
by N92.9141b
Summary: Elizaveta is a princess who's been locked up for her entire life. She just so happens to have been cursed. But as she comes of age and her father starts pressing for an arranged marriage, she finds a way to change her fate with the help of newfound friends. Human names used (and sorry for the bad summary). Rated T because of some slight swearing.
1. Chapter 1

_**Character Name Guide:**  
_

_**Elizaveta=Hungary**_

_**Lili=Liechtenstein**_

_**Vash=Switzerland**_

_**Disclaimer: I only own the story, not Hetalia.**_

* * *

_The world has nothing for me._

_What a lovely opening line to my journal. And I thought I'd promised myself that this wouldn't be depressing. _

_Well, at the very least, it was dramatic. There are very few instances of drama in my life, and whatever drama does exist is contrived by my imagination or else completely stupid. Honestly, what can you expect from someone who's lived in the confines of a walled garden for the entirety of their life? I need something to pique my interest, for once. I'm sure you understand._

_What if I said I was a chivalrous knight, off to conquer new lands, discover lost treasures, fight dragons, win wars? Would you believe me? No... Even I can't imagine myself doing that. For one, I'm a girl, and girls are just items for knights to wear on their wrists. For another, chivalry is one of the few words that can't apply to me. Sarcastic, yes. Cynical, maybe. Chivalrous is a definite no-no. I've never been a hero. If my father has his way with me, I'll never have the chance to be one, either._

_Besides, knights are too lucky. They can choose where they go, what they do...and who they fall in love with. I've had issues with all of those. That last one, though. That's the clincher._

_Maybe someday, I'll publish this as a novel. Pretend that this wasn't my life, that this was all something I wrote for the pleasure of myself and others. Under a pseudonym, of course. Future queens should be nothing more than pretty faces, superficially perfect, like their nation should be, and of course, I would never be allowed to claim credit. I'm fine with that. At the very least, it would mean that I have done _something. _Something other than tend the garden, read my books, and wish for a friend. _

_Don't take this the wrong way. There is nothing romantic or mysterious about me or this life. My so-called plight is not a fairy tale. I am not a damsel in distress, waiting to be rescued from this place... And honestly, my solitude isn't glamorous. To have the world around you be so empty that you can feel the blood pulsing through your ears...it's not so easy as it seems on the paper. _

_Or maybe I'm just being a huge wuss. How would you know? How would I know? All I know about the real world comes from the books I read and reread almost religiously. Judging by the fact that you're still reading, I suppose you're like that, too._

_I bet you pulled up short at that. Sorry. But again, sarcasm is one of my few assets as to entertainment. What can you expect? The only places I have ever seen with my own eyes are my cottage (tended and cleaned by unseen servants), my library of sorts, and my garden. And, of course, the stone walls that surround me on every side, making me feel like I'm living in a well. It makes me wonder if everything I do is preordained, if I'll never be able to make my own decisions in anything. Is that really how the world is supposed to work? Or is it just my curse talking? _

_Wow. I've told you all that, spouted philosophical crap like a wise man, and you still don't even know my name. It's Elizaveta Héderváry, just so you know. If you're from this kingdom, you'll recognize that as the name of your princess. Not that that information will do you any good. You can't exactly hold me up for ransom-I'm locked up, and I doubt you'll ever find me. _

_Wait, I hear...footsteps? Am I actually getting a visitor-and is it actually someone other than the silent servants who visit me daily or the gardener's assistant, come to bring me fresh seeds? _

_Well. It's about time._

* * *

Elizaveta was sixteen when she first met her father.

Of course, she already knew who he was, and what he looked like. She'd lived with his portrait bolted into place, staring her down from the bedroom wall for her entire life, and his ceremonial clothing demonstrated his societal stature. But it wasn't just what he wore-it was the cold, powerful gleam in his storm-gray eyes that the artist had captured perfectly-that showed her that he was, undeniably, a king, and a practically omnipotent one, at that.

Now, staring back into the recesses of those eyes on the wall, she sighed, tugging at the end of her light brown hair, now loose around her shoulders. It was uncomfortable, always being watched so closely by someone she barely knew. And eerie, in a way. Like he was the one pulling all the strings in her life.

_The king is watching, _she thought. _Watching my every move._

Taking a deep breath, she turned to the tall, three-way mirror that had been a new addition to her cottage's small bedroom. It stuck out like a bloody sore on unblemished skin in her modest, unadorned abode, too flashy and bright to exist in such a simple place. Wearing a dress for the first time she could remember, Elizaveta felt like that, too. Gaudy, misplaced. Not quite right.

"Princess, you look lovely," the little blonde maid standing shyly beside her commented. "I'm sure that many princes will like you when they meet you today." She bowed her head with a small smile, and her blue hair ribbon shifted forward. Elizaveta smiled uncomfortably back at the girl, who couldn't have been more than thirteen years old. She knew that Lili was genuinely impressed; in the short time that they'd known each other, her little maid friend had never told any obvious lies. Still, it didn't feel right, to be wearing something like this.

She surveyed herself in the mirror, feeling a bit exposed. Her eyes gleamed a pleasing green color, her physical appearance's only good aspect, in her opinion. Apart from that, all she saw were calloused, working hands (to be concealed under prim white gloves, she was sure) and a plain, average face. There was nothing to her that a prince would particularly like, thank goodness. But, then again, this wasn't about whether the princes actually liked her-it was about how much a marriage could offer his country. And, from what she'd heard so far, her country's prospects seemed pretty good.

_It's all about forging the right alliances. _That's what her father had said in an undertone to his aides. He hadn't really tried to mask it, either. After all, she was just another bargaining chip for him, another pawn on the chessboard. And she really had no way to go against it.

Awkwardly sitting back down at her dressing-room table-also an unwelcome new addition to her home-she reached for the hairbrush, only to have Lili pick it up instead and start doing her hair. Elizaveta started, about to tell her she would do it herself, then acquiesced as Lili began brushing through the long, tangled drape. "How many people do you think are there?" Elizaveta asked, fidgeting nervously. She'd never met many other people; the only others she'd been exposed to were her tutor, some servants, her father-and Lili, of course. She refused to lump Lili in with the rest of the servants.

Lili smiled guilelessly, her round blue eyes sparkling. "I am sure at least four hundred guests have arrived to see you for the first time in public, and at least forty of them are princes. You _have _been gone for 16 years, and everyone is curious. But I'm sure that they are all friendly, and just want to meet you for the first time."

Elizaveta frowned. If only their intentions really were as innocent as Lili made them out to be. "I thought this...cotillion was supposed to be one of those 'marry-her-off' affairs, in which the prince representing the nation with the most assets proposes and the king accepts for me."

In the mirror, she noticed Lili wince a little at her choice of words. She was now pinning her hair up against the side of Elizaveta's head. "Oh, oh, it's not like that!" she stammered earnestly, looking slightly alarmed. "No, this is just to introduce you and your…" she hesitated, searching for the right word, "_blessing_ to the people before the competition-Oh!" She broke off in the middle of her sentence. Startled, Elizaveta tried to turn, only to meet small hands, pushing her face back around.

"What competition?" Elizaveta demanded. But Lili just frowned and shook her head.

"Please forget that I said anything," she whispered. "You weren't supposed to know about that until the cotillion… And technically I'm not supposed to know either, but my brother Vash, he's one of your father's aides, told me about it and he wanted me to keep it a secret…" Her voice trailed off nervously under the suspicious look Elizaveta was giving her.

Elizaveta stared at her for a moment longer, watching the younger girl determinedly avoid her gaze, then sighed and moved on. She knew Lili wasn't about to say anymore: her loyalty to her brother ran too deep. As Lili finished winding an intricate braid around the side of her head and secured it with an ornamental pin, she remained silent, brooding. She was sure she had some idea as to what Lili meant, but it was too vague to put her finger on exactly.

"There, you're all done!" Lili said, a little too brightly. Elizaveta stood, not bothering to look in the mirror, and walked towards the door, internally cursing the person who invented high heeled shoes. She was having enough trouble already not tripping over her dress. Add all that to the fact that she'd never been to a single public event… Well, it didn't make for a very appealing picture.

She turned around, feeling the light green fabric swish around her heels. "Are you coming, Lili?"

Her little friend blushed a little. "Um, I'm only allowed to come as far as the ballroom doors… But don't worry, don't worry, your father will be escorting you in! He'll make sure you don't trip..." she added hastily with a little giggle, seeing the flicker of doubt cross her mistress' face.

Elizaveta sighed. Thank goodness Lili had misread the look on her face. In fact, her father was the most worrisome part of this whole business.

She took Lili's smaller hand in hers and they entered the main part of the castle. They said nothing on the journey through the brightly-lit, empty hallways, simply listening to the sounds of music and chatter waft through the air. The ball was about to start; the guests were all just waiting for the entrance of the princes and...her.

As they neared the main ballroom (hopefully it was large enough to fit all four hundred or so of her father's invited guests that Lili had described), the voice of the royal herald began to announce the names of princes, followed by the name of her country. They were close enough to hear the crowd's reaction to each name, and Elizaveta began to sort the names into groups: a loud cheer meant many supporters from that country were there, and perhaps was an indicator of whom her father favored as her match.

A sick feeling began to rise in her stomach. Whomever her father chose would never be a good idea. But she wouldn't be able to protest, especially not after they'd touched their lips to hers. After anyone did that...well, there would be no escape.

Elizaveta stationed herself in front of the gilded golden doors of the ballroom's west entrance, and Lili squeezed her hand one last time before slipping away into the shadows the way all servants were expected to master. A moment later, her father appeared, trailing a gaudy ermine cloak behind him. He looked her up and nodded, satisfied with her new appearance. Even though the cheers were still quite deafening, she could hear his terse whisper: "It's good enough."

The hubbub died down after a few moments, and the only sound that could be heard was the voice of the herald: "And now, I am honored to present his Majesty the King and his daughter, the princess!"

And the doors began to open.

* * *

**This is my first fanfiction ever, and it's going to be part of a pretty long story. Since I have a lot of time over the summer, I thought I might as well. Please review (so I know whether this is crap or not and whether I should keep updating) and thank you for reading! :)**


	2. Chapter 2

_**Character Name Guide:**_

_**Roderich=Austria**_

_****__**Disclaimer: Again, I only own the story, not Hetalia. Otherwise, there would be no such thing as ignoring Canada. **_

* * *

Roderich was glad that his country had entered first.

His nation's delegation was stationed closest to the king's throne. 'An honor' was what his father called it. Roderich wasn't so sure.

At the very least, his father wasn't here with the group-he'd had to stay behind to take care of important business in his home country. What Roderich wouldn't give to be there right now, helping him in some way. But his father had insisted that he go. "It is our duty, as their closest trade partner, that we should meet their heiress." Though neither of them had said it, Roderich knew it was also his duty to marry her.

He shook his head and pushed the thought away, watching as the next prince entered the room and met his delegation. He knew what this event was for, even though the old king had disguised it as a dance. Strange, that any man would choose to marry off his daughter as soon as she was unveiled to the world. But what was probably just as strange was the fact that she'd been hidden away for all this time. He hated to admit it, but he was curious. What could be the reason for such an action?

Either way, it hadn't deterred any of the other princes at the event. Every single one of them had the same goal as his nation: to perhaps unite their countries through a marriage. As a country with both military might and natural resources, the heiress to its throne was much sought after. Even if she was hideous or had some strange disease… The morbid thoughts flew around his head before he forced them out. As long as she was a decent person, he would give her a chance, become her friend at the very least.

"What are you doing?" Roderich turned at the voice, and saw one of the king's aides standing by the seat of the throne, almost invisible. A pair of emerald green eyes glared at him distrustfully. "The king's about to enter with his daughter; show some respect," he hissed, his blond hair swishing slightly. Jumping a little, Roderich nodded. He hadn't realized that he was staring at the east entrance of the ballroom while everyone else had already turned to face the west, from which the resident royal family-well, just the king and his daughter-would enter.

"And now, I am honored to present his Majesty the King and his daughter, the princess!" The doors slowly began to open of their own accord, only adding to the dramatic effect of the great reveal.

From the crowd, he heard a collective intake of breath, and even from his position far away from the west doors, he could see why.

She was breathtakingly beautiful.

Her eyes flashed a brilliant green, and her face blushed a pleasing rose color, framed by light brown tresses. She held herself with dignity even though she seemed almost miniature with her gloved hand in her father's much larger one, and a forest green train swished out behind her. She was slim, graceful, with a lithe, neat figure. No wonder she'd been hidden away-such a fair, rare jewel would have had to be hidden from the world, protected.

He shook his head, trying to scatter some of the strange emotions flying through his head. _Look at you!_ he berated himself. _Objectifying a young lady solely based on her looks. You don't even know her name, and who knows if she isn't extremely spoiled or rude or…_ He hesitated, not wanting to think badly of her.

Roderich shook his head again. He knew he had a weakness for beauty; something in him refused to associate bad traits with one so lovely. He just couldn't let it get the best of him.

The royal pair moved slowly, carefully. The king was just as an impressive sight: his face chiseled and impassive, his hair streaked with gray, and his tall, broad frame reinforced respect into all watching. He was an imposing figure, that was for sure. How he had a daughter who looked nothing like him, Roderich didn't know. Perhaps she simply took after her mother, whom Roderich had never seen outside of paintings of the royal family. And never would see, as she'd died soon after giving birth.

As the pair drew near, Roderich began to see her face in greater relief. Everything about her was in marked contrast to her father's, and, from the way she held his hand away from her, he guessed that she didn't particularly like him, either. Her face, unfortunately, was turned resolutely forward, as if she were unwilling to meet anyone's eyes. But as she neared Roderich, he soon realized that the cool, unfazed expression on her face belied a level of nervousness quite similar to his own. He could see it in how tightly she gripped her father's hand, even though the king would offer her no comfort.

He noticed a smattering of freckles across her face, and relaxed. _Good._ Now he had no way to think of her as perfect, even though he did think that the freckles added interest to her face. Picturesque faces may look good, but sooner or later they always got boring.

The young man who had hissed at him earlier was now standing by the king's side on the raised dais beneath the throne, his face as unyielding as his master's. He shot a sideways glance at Roderich, silently warning him to pay attention as the king, who had yet to sit down on the throne, began to speak.

"May I present to you my daughter, Elizaveta Héderváry," he said in a booming baritone voice. In spite of himself, Roderich found himself smiling; the name suited her. The aide, who was on the side farther from Roderich, sent a glare in his direction, and Roderich returned his gaze evenly. Elizaveta, whose eyes had turned to scan the crowd, noticed the slight interaction, and her eyes fell on the smiling prince. He didn't know what she gleaned from reading his face, but as he looked up at her, she hastily turned away, an action barely noticeable to the rest of the crowd. Yet, while it was occurring, Roderich hadn't heard a single word the king had said.

Thank goodness he'd been able to look at her more closely. He had been forgetting that she, too, was a human being, not just some perfectly-modeled statuette.

Finally, the king finished his speech, and the crowd began to surge into yet another ballroom, this one larger, with a long buffet table running along the longest side. About half of the gaggle began to leave the reception hall for their quarters, their presence no longer necessary or wanted; only those with the highest offices, including the princes, of course, moved into the larger room. As Roderich followed along with the rest, he somehow found the king's sourpuss of an aide had fallen into step behind him.

"You really weren't paying attention during the king's speech, were you," he said caustically, accusingly. It wasn't a question; it felt almost like an order. Roderich studied his companion: a short, small man who somehow struck an intimidating figure in an olive green military uniform and dark brown combat boots. He had the king's coat of arms pinned to his chest; evidently, he was one of the more important of the king's advisors-or whatever it was that he did in the king's service. His emerald eyes studied Roderich just as closely, looking distrustful.

Suddenly, he nodded. "Yes, you're one of the princes here for the princess. Well, I'll have you know that the king is a hard man. He does not tolerate any rudeness towards him or his daughter. That is, if you want to make a good impression." His words surprised Roderich; for a man so close to the king, he certainly was rather bluntly critical.

He decided to be polite. "My name is Roderich Edelstein; it is a pleasure to make your acquaintance," he murmured, extending his hand to shake. The shorter man eyed it cagily, as if checking for concealed weapons, before sighing and taking the proffered hand. "Vash Zwingli," he replied shortly, and then immediately let go. With a small sigh of his own, he decided to take Vash's bluntness in stride, and they entered the ballroom.

Immediately, he saw a large mass of people circled around the princess, and a similarly large group around the king. It wasn't unexpected, as no one had ever seen her before today, but Roderich noted with a frown that the majority of the people gathered about her were other princes. All undoubtedly wishing to take their chances at wooing her, as if it was a given that she'd be shallow enough to make her choice right then and there.

Vash unexpectedly gave voice to some of his more cynical thoughts. "I get why all of them would be enamored with the princess-she is pretty decent-looking, although she's got nothing on my little sister. But what about the king? I'm surprised that so many of them want to see more of his lovely face." He chuckled darkly, glancing around the room as if someone would attack at any moment. Roderich must've looked somewhat confused, as Vash added, "They've all seen him before, and all of them are deathly afraid of getting on his bad side. You really have a lot to learn about international politics."

"Ah, yes…" he replied, a little unsure. "Aren't you, as well?" The other man shook his head. "I'm his head military advisor, and his best one, at that. My little sister is the princess's handmaid. We're not exactly _expendable._" He heaved a heavy sigh of annoyance. "Well, I suppose the people surrounding the king are probably the princes' fathers, trying to curry favor with the old fellow. He's probably the one making the choices for the princess, anyway." Roderich swallowed, remembering his own father. His father, who was depending on him to fuse the two neighboring countries together with a marital union, yet had refused to come. Leaving him with the entire burden.

In spite of himself, Roderich glanced over his shoulder to the group crowding around the princess. "Does the princess mind that?" he wondered aloud. It was hard to believe that someone as...as lovely as she wouldn't even have a choice in who her partner became, like she had no control over whom she'd have to spend her life with. And somehow, she didn't seem like the kind of girl who would just stand by and let that happen.

What was he saying? None of the princes here had a choice, either-they were probably all under the same duress that he was. But at least they had support. _No,_ he thought, his expression hardening. _I have a duty to my people. I won't let my flaws get in the way of that._

Vash snorted. "Well, my sister tells me that she's a decent person. Has some strange ideas about being royalty, though-a little headstrong, definitely independent. But I doubt that matters.

"You do realize," he added, looking at Roderich's dark expression, "that the king is basically handpicking an heir to the throne? She's the heiress! Whomever she marries is going to become king, and that country will become part of ours. Of course she won't be able to pick and choose-this is about keeping alliances together, keeping countries together. It's not all about what she wants."

Roderich looked down at the ground, his lips tightening. That was almost exactly what his father had said to him as he'd been preparing to leave his country… "So, in other words, she has no choice," he said wonderingly, staring off into space. "I wonder if she knows…"

With a scowl, Vash responded curtly, "Of course she knows. But she can't do anything about it-and she probably won't want to." He lowered his voice. "The king's rigged it so that she won't be able to help falling for whomever he picks out for her."

"What?" _That's impossible._

Huffing in exasperation, the other man grabbed Roderich by the arm and dragged him into a corner, ignoring his protests. For someone smaller than he was, Vash was quite strong. The rifle he'd just noticed strapped to the man's back didn't help matters, either. He glanced over his shoulder for any roving eyes moving their way in a way that almost constituted paranoia, then turned back to Roderich.

"You'll be finding this out sooner or later, anyway, so I suppose it doesn't matter if I tell you early. The princess is cursed-cursed to have to fall in love with the first man to kiss her." He spotted Roderich's horrified expression. "It was pretty cunning of the king, to ask the princess's birth fairy to give her that attribute. That way, he'd be guaranteed to get his way as long as he managed to keep her away from men until she was of age." He looked around at the princess, who was now being asked to her first dance. "So far, it seems that he's done a pretty good job."

Roderich felt like he'd just been hit by a cannonball, right in the center of his chest. Vash had just revealed to him why the princess had been locked up for so long and dropped a bomb on his ideas about her all in one stroke.

He opened his mouth to let out the questions that were piling up in his head. But Vash shot him yet another glare, one that clearly said, _not another word._ The shorter man turned around and walked back towards the king, and the rifle on his back was enough to induce Roderich not to follow.

* * *

**Well, hopefully that's not _too _much of a cliffhanger... Or is it a cliffhanger? I don't even know. **

**And there goes my shabby attempt at character development. And is Switzerland too much of a xenophobe at this point? Oh well.**

**To be honest, I don't really like this chapter, and I wish it wasn't so cliché. And I know it's moving kind of slowly, but I'm working on getting some action into the chapters sooner or later. The story should be picking up around, say, the fourth or fifth chapter. That's when the action starts...**

**Anyway, thanks for reading this and if you have time, please review and tell me what I'm doing wrong... **


	3. Chapter 3

_**Character Name Guide: **_

_**Gilbert=Prussia**_

**Also, see if you can figure out who the other princes Elizaveta references randomly are... Although it may be rather obvious from the commonly-used descriptions... :D**

**__****Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia, or everything I ship would suddenly become canon. **

* * *

Elizaveta didn't like how her father's eyes followed her through every step of the dance. His gaze was annoyingly persistent, and she could practically feel it boring into her-and her partner's-backs.

The man dancing with her, however, seemed happily oblivious. He was yammering on at about a mile a minute, and she was just as quickly learning to tune him out. His voice just added yet another layer to the music waltzing through the air, a thread of steady vocals somehow melding into the steady thrum of the classical motifs she heard. Why was she dancing with him again? She barely knew his name. Oh yes-because as she'd been leaving the reception hall, she'd heard her father whisper an order to dance with as many suitors as possible. And tonight was really her father's night-he was the one pulling the strings, the only one that mattered.

The music was a lively waltz, and the butterflies in her stomach seemed to match that perfectly: they bounced around, and some felt like they were creeping up her throat. It was hard to concentrate in the ballroom, especially while trying not to trip up. Her high heels were probably going to leave her feet aching beyond belief tonight. She missed her gardening boots, as beat up and dirt-stained as they were. At the very least, they hadn't killed her feet like this.

"...and then I was like, 'Wow Dad, I get to go to this, like, totally amazing party and like, meet people? Sweet!" Her partner prattled on. Elizaveta tried to smile politely and keep her face complacent and composed. He wasn't making the slightest bit of sense-and he'd just randomly nicknamed her "Lizzie". Still, he did seem to have good intentions, and at least he was friendly. There had been several princes that… well, to put it frankly, scared her a bit. Especially that blond one who'd been winking and blowing kisses to her the entire time she'd been walking up to the throne, and that tall one with the scarf wrapped around his face and the strange, dark aura… She supposed she'd be able to put up with this one much more easily than some of the others.

She silently hoped her father at least chose someone decent. He hadn't told her directly that he was making the choice, but wasn't that the entire idea of an arranged marriage?

As the dance ended and the prince let go of her hand, she quickly found herself surrounded by suitors again, and the prince's cheerful "Talk to you later, Lizzie!" was quickly drowned out by their voices, clamoring for a dance. Swallowing nervously and pointedly ignoring the..strange ones, she nodded to the closest prince and took his hand.

The process repeated itself through the night. As soon as she let go of one man's hand, another would immediately take his place; some would simply grab her hand and start dancing (the creepy blond prince had been one of them), and now, she found herself dancing with a prince with white hair and strange reddish eyes. He was almost as talkative as the first prince-but far more self-absorbed, she noted-and she quickly tuned him out and let her mind wander.

She was doing that a lot this evening.

Her eyes roved among the guests' faces. She'd danced with so many of them, she could already tell just by sight which ones were royalty solely based on how they carried themselves and how other people acted with them. Some princes acted like her dance partner-swaggering through the masses in an almost boorish manner, rudely brushing servants aside-and some were quieter, milder. Yet all of them had been able to overcome any shyness and take their chances with her. All except one.

She knew this one was a prince-for one, his garb had been that of one, and for another, all his underlings treated him with immense respect. And she recognized him from earlier: he'd been having a silent stand-off with Vash, Lili's older brother, for reasons yet unknown. For a moment she'd looked at him and he'd looked right back, the fading daylight of the windows flashing on his glasses. And she'd seen a strange expression on his face, one she probably would never be able to read.

He'd been smiling.

"Hey! Hey, are you listening to me?!" Elizaveta jolted slightly at her partner's words. She shook her head. "Sorry… I just spaced out…" She winced at her own uncultured language, feeling out of place in such an aristocratic environment for what must've been the thousandth time that night.

Luckily, the prince didn't seem to care much. "Eh, that's kinda cute. Then again, you're kinda cute," he said, his eyes gleaming mischieviously. Elizaveta's face heated-more out of anger than any embarrassment-and he winked.

What was with princes and flattery? She'd thought princes were supposed to be chivalrous-_although,_ she noted cynically, _chivalry was always a lovely plot bunny in fairy tales, and is probably too far-fetched to actually exist. After all, real life doesn't have plot bunnies._

She opened her mouth to tell him off. Then shut it, grinding her teeth. She was doing that quite a bit more often than she'd like to admit that night.

Were other people just this naturally hard to get along with? Maybe it was just her.

"Anyway, as the awesome me was saying…" He wasn't looking at her anymore, thank goodness, he was watching another prince as he guided her through the motions of the dance. She followed his gaze, and her eyes landed on...oh.

Him again.

Was it just her, or was he watching her, too?

"I'm glad to see the unawesome pansy hasn't gotten any attention tonight," the albino prince said, with the self-satisfied grin of a cat who'd just eaten a delicious meal plastered on his face. Elizaveta only frowned thoughtfully in response. Unawesome pansy? What was that even supposed to mean? And who was he in the first place?

"Oh, that aristocratic idiot hasn't had the time to talk to you yet, has he?" he questioned, leaning closer to her and scrutinizing her puzzled expression. "Well, that Roderich was always such a ladies' man. Him and his fancy manners. I wonder what's gotten into him…" He trailed off, his smirk widening. "Ah well, that just means you get to spend more time in my awesome presence, princess." Wiggling his eyebrows in what he probably thought was a suggestive manner, he pulled her even closer so that she was practically pressed up against him.

She pulled away, incensed. "Stop that, you…" She hesitated, wondering whether it was socially acceptable to insult princes, then barreled on anyway. "You boor." Leveling her meanest glare at the prince, she expected him to back away. At least, she hoped that he would.

As usual, no such luck.

Instead he just laughed out loud, and no one else seemed to notice as he reached out and seized her hand again, pulling her closer. "Oh, here's a feisty one. I could go for someone like that." His red eyes narrowed maliciously. His free hand landed on her shoulder. Vainly, she tried to free herself, but his grip only tightened, and his grin only widened. She could smell the pungent aroma of beer on his breath.

Suddenly, she felt his hold on her loosen, and a low growl emitted from his throat. His eyes were no longer pinned on her; now, they were fixated on something-or someone-above her head. "You!" he snarled, his eyes widening. "What do you think you're doing?"

The other person-she still couldn't see who-replied evenly. "I think the real question is, what do you think you're doing? To me it seems like you're forcing yourself on this young lady." The stranger's tone was cold, almost angry. "You never learn, do you, Gilbert?"

Now the prince let go completely, and she spun around to see him rapidly advancing on the interloper. With a muffled gasp, she realized it was the prince with the glasses, his gaze now leveled on the other prince, with undisguised animosity flashing between them. His arms were crossed, as if he was admonishing a small child, and Gilbert returned the glare with interest.

She studied the newcomer. He was thin and stately, with dark brown hair and eyes. A single hair stood up from his head, which she found rather strange, and he had a small beauty mark on the corner of his pale, delicately-wrought face. He gave off an air of aristocracy, of being a cultured, knowledgeable young man. Other than that, he didn't look any different from the rest of the princes. Yet why did he seem so...unique? And why did he choose now to approach her?

Gilbert had his face shoved up in Roderich's now, and a fleck of spittle flew out of his mouth as he yelled, a little louder than he should have, "And what's it to you, you pansy? You didn't even have the courage that the awesome me had to even talk to the lady!" Elizaveta watched the new prince, silently admiring his unfazed expression. She knew she would have been shouting by then, and perhaps her trusty frying pan (regrettably still hidden under her bed) would be out and ready, too. But he stood his ground firmly, his dark eyes narrowing slightly behind his glasses.

By then, others had noticed the standoff, and the orchestra had stopped playing. Her father strode over to the pair, his eyes narrowed and his arms folded just like Roderich's. "What is the meaning of this, Elizaveta?" he thundered, his gaze flicking towards the two young princes, who looked like they might just start a brawl right then and there. _Of course. Of all people he decides to heap the blame on, it's me!_ she thought, and she could feel her hackles rising.

"It was nothing, Father," she replied calmly, trying not to betray her irritation. This entire night was such a mess; she just wanted to get out of the horrid place. "Just a…" Inwardly, she cursed. How was she supposed to explain this?

He ignored her completely, instead walking over to the two princes. Gilbert had Roderich by the cravat now, and was growling dark threats into his face. Roderich simply looked back at him calmly, as if looking at a childish assailant who could do no damage whatsoever. He turned his head slightly towards her. His brown eyes reached her questioning ones, and his expression softened slightly, turning into a reassuring look, as if to say, _no worries, I'll get you out of this._ She flushed a little, but smiled back, her eyes signaling _thank you thank you thank you._

"I'll have you know that my daughter is adverse to unwelcome advances," she heard her father say to Gilbert. So he had been paying attention. "Be sure to treat her with all due respect, as you would treat anyone from my country." His words were heavy, loaded with distrust. Something in Elizaveta gloried in that. At the very least, her father wasn't going to pair her up with someone like that, who had so flagrantly disrespected their country.

Gilbert bristled slightly at the king's words, but, as her father towered over him and levelled his harshest glare at him, he released Roderich and backed away. Roderich bowed slightly to the king and retreated as well. Elizaveta had to stifle a small laugh. She imagined her father glared at his advisors like that, just to make them nervous.

"And, as for you, Elizaveta," he said sternly, "do a better job of defending our country's honor, will you?" Her smile vanished instantly, and she stiffly replied, "Yes, sir." She glanced back at Roderich, but he offered her no help now, instead just shaking his head a little. Another unreadable expression had appeared in his eyes. It almost looked like...pity.

_Does he know about something? Is it...that?_ She turned away quickly, biting her lip. And she'd thought no one knew about her...problem. Maybe all of the princes knew; maybe that was why they were acting so strangely around her.

As her father began to walk away and the ballroom returned to its normal noisy state, she looked for Roderich again, but he was gone. He was a strange one, that was for sure. She wasn't sure if that was good or bad yet.

But he seemed like a decent person. That, at least, was a plus.

* * *

**Wow, Elizaveta's dad is quite a jerk, don't you agree? And just for the record, he's not based off any Hetalia character-he's just ****_there. _  
**

**Also, as to the random princes that were referenced, I hope I made it obvious enough, but they were Poland, France, and Russia. Oh jeez. What a motley crew we have assembled here at the castle. **

**Thank you all for reading and please review!**


	4. Chapter 4

**_No additional characters introduced in this chapter. Please refer to the name guides scattered throughout the previous chapters for further reference._**

**_Disclaimer: I own the story, nothing else. _**

* * *

_As expected, it was a little disconcerting to be in a public place for the very first time._

_Just kidding. It scared the heck out of me._

_Luckily, nothing major happened. Except this one idiot tried to do something stupid and I found out that the majority of the male population in the world are complete nincompoops. Well, fine. That's actually kind of what I was expecting._

_There was one prince, though, who at least had some decency. But right after he'd finished being "chivalrous" or whatever the heck you'd call it, he vanished. So I guess his "chivalry" could be chalked up to a personal vendetta against aforementioned idiot. Well, fine. It was still a nice gesture, and I can at least hope it wasn't a personal issue, right? Right?_

_I'm being idealistic again. I'm sorry._

_Lili says that believing the best of another person isn't considered 'idealistic'. I talked to her after retiring from the cotillion early (well, relatively early) at the request of my father, who was making sense for once. She says that that prince-Roderich, of one of our neighboring countries, I think-was probably trying to be nice and help out. She was remarkably surprised at my description of Gilbert's behavior, though-I suppose her brother Vash has never let anyone like that anywhere near her, so she doesn't know much about fools like him. Well, I had no idea what to do in that situation, so I guess I don't really know, either._

_Sometimes, I wish for a brother like Vash. Or any sibling like that, really. It would be much less boring, and I'd probably be much less socially-confused._

_Ugh, my ramblings are starting to bore me even as I write them._

_And someone's coming. It doesn't sound like Lili._

_But who else would be coming at this ungodly hour of the night?_

* * *

Vash was bored. Side effect of having had to come to so many balls.

Of course, it was his duty to do that-he was the king's closest advisor, and probably one of the best, too. It was one of the few things he'd admit pride in. But gah, this duty was annoying. He didn't understand why the king had to be so flamboyant sometimes-all that it did was drain the country's treasury in an attempt to prove the nation's superiority to all who visited. It was kind of a strange mentality for the king to have, to have to show off the kingdom's every asset instead of letting its power be observed and marveled at behind closed doors. The assets he showed off included his advisors.

To everyone of any importance, the king had introduced him as "our young but talented military advisor", as if to say, "My military advisor's younger and less experienced than yours and we still win more wars". He wouldn't be surprised if that was the only reason he had been required to be here at all. It wasn't like anyone was going to dance with him, for heaven's sake-he had a gun strapped to his back for the very purpose of keeping people away. That way, he could survey the ballroom in peace.

His vantage point from the corner of the ballroom was almost perfect: he was in shadow, so no one could see him clearly, and he could see practically every bit of action there was to see in that room. The king would laugh at him for being a wallflower, but, with so many different nations present, he wouldn't be surprised if past animosity erupted suddenly and violently. Assassination attempts were quite normal for any monarchy; there were potential threats everywhere. One always had to be vigilant, even as the night dragged on and the guests lost their coherence after several cups of the kingdom's finest alcoholic beverages.

He watched with some amusement as some inebriated guests stumbled around the dance floor, giggling. This was hardly a stately affair anymore; as usual, it had deteriorated so quickly that he wasn't even sure that the orchestra wasn't completely out of it all. He supposed that that was the problem with having an entire serving table dedicated to wines and other such… liquids.

The majority of the princes, though, weren't drinking, and didn't seem to be about to start, either. Vash could see why: the princess they were all trying to woo was obviously as sharp as his bayonet, and it was quite clear that she wasn't about to pick any favorites. They would all need their wits about them to win her affections-not that they needed to, of course.

Vash smirked a little. He wasn't sure all of the princes understood that she wasn't the one making the choice. And besides, the curse she carried was probably enough to make her love even the most disgusting of fools-and there were plenty of _those_ present among the royal crowd.

He'd met some of the princes before at previous events. Even without really interacting with them, he was sure of the fact that they weren't worth much as people. But then again, that was how Vash perceived the vast majority of the people he met. Sometimes he found that even he himself fell short.

That Roderich fellow, though. He was one of the few that Vash had spoken to who had seemed somewhat decent, if a bit on the reserved side. And he had also been one of the few that Vash had thought to be anywhere near fit to his high standards for his sister Lili. Admittedly, hardly anyone he'd ever met had been deemed acceptable to associate with his innocent angel of a little sister (Princess Elizaveta had been one of the few exceptions). But he used that standard as his moral compass, and something was telling him that Roderich was facing the right direction. Of all the princes he'd met, he wouldn't mind someone like him becoming the king.

He turned back to the crowd, watching princes sweep past, giggling youths clinging tightly to their arms. They moved with no grace at all to the cacophony of the orchestra, which had basically deteriorated into improvisation hour. Honestly. It was a wonder that anyone considered their country the height of arts and culture-though he'd heard quite a few young princes say so to the incumbent king. But he'd heard far more than just that in the past few hours.

He'd learned quite a bit of new gossip about each kingdom just by listening and watching. And he also knew which princes should be eliminated from the competition right on the spot.

_And that's where I come in,_ Vash thought to himself, feeling the tiniest bit smug. He made a mental note to pass on his ideas to the king as soon as possible.

The princess had already been sent off to bed an hour ago. That was the first part of the plan, accomplished. Honestly, that Gilbert idiot had given them quite a welcome excuse to shuttle her off. Not that she was complaining, of course-she'd seemed more than a little bit overwhelmed.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the king make an excuse to the people he was talking to and start heading in his direction. _Perfect._ He pretended not to notice, instead pulling his gun off of his shoulder and inspecting it for any scuff marks. It was of utmost importance that their interaction go unnoticed; otherwise, the whole plan could be discovered.

The king slipped past him (well, slipped past as well as a tall, broad-shouldered man could) surreptitiously, dropping a tiny note onto the floor near Vash's boot. He waited until the other man had passed on to mingle with other people to scoop it off the floor in one smooth motion.

_Meet me outside her door at four. Bring your sister-she's waiting in the other room. She's going with her. If she's not already asleep, bring the two guards in the hall. They know what to do._

Flipping the paper over, he read on.

_Also, there's no time to eliminate competitors. I know what you said about some unsavory people, but they will probably be eliminated over time._

Vash clenched his fists. Obviously the king had made some changes to the plan without his consent. But he'd deal with that later.

He checked his watch. 2:49 in the morning. He'd have a while to clear up the plans and run them by his sister.

He could only hope that the king knew exactly how to explain it to the people. Everything else was entirely up to himself. And he trusted himself.

Didn't he?

Slowly, steadily, he began making his way towards the ballroom door. He slipped out into the reception hall, empty of people except for a few couples who had wanted to be alone. Roderich was there, too, leaning against the wall in silence. His brown eyes met Vash's green, questioning.

Vash wanted to say something, to give him some warning as to what was going on. Then he shook his head and glared, causing the other man to turn away. He'd be back at the castle soon-and by then Roderich would have some idea of what was happening. Hopefully.

Turning his back on the other man, he approached his sister, hovering near the door, almost invisible in her maid's uniform and white apron. _Good._ He would need to talk to her alone before they left.

Taking her hand, he carefully opened the door-thank goodness the hinges had been oiled just the day before, and so swung noiselessly-and, glancing behind him for any last traces of wandering eyes, pulled her out into the hall. He could see her green eyes wondering up at his even in the dimly lit hallway, but she tactfully remained silent. He waited until the door had closed firmly behind them, leaving them in shadow.

Then, gripping her hand tighter than ever, they sped down the hall, footsteps barely echoing through the eerie darkness._  
_

* * *

**...And then a cliffhanger. **

**This chapter's a bit shorter than the rest of them (not intentionally, but because there really isn't too much action at the beginning, where it's basically just 'background, background, background'). But I hope that I portrayed Switzerland's character in a decent manner that doesn't seem ****_too _****confusing. I like writing his character, too. And I really hope to keep writing Elizaveta's journal entries. They're fun to write :D**

**Again, (hoping this doesn't sound repetitive or annoying), thank you for reading and please, if you have any time at all, write a review! They're really encouraging and helpful as to how to improve (hopefully this story gets more interesting and less trite), and I'd love to hear your ideas! :)**


	5. Chapter 5

**_Character Name Guide:_**

**_Actually, I don't think there will actually be much need for this after this chapter. So, to recap:_**

**_Elizaveta=Hungary_**

**_Roderich=Austria_**

**_Vash=Switzerland_**

**_Lili=Liechtenstein_**

**_Gilbert=Prussia_**

**_I don't think I need to go through the names of the random princes that were referenced because I'm still unsure as to whether I'm going to name them all by name. I might touch on that later, though. _**

**_Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia. _**

* * *

_Earlier that night_

Lili was starting to feel more than a little bit antsy.

The king had instructed her to wait for Vash just by the door, to remain out of sight. Alright, fine. She was going to do that anyway-outside of the ballrooms, of course. Honestly, she didn't know what she would have done had she been told to wait in the main ballroom-she probably would have been crushed by the sheer number of people in the room. Maybe that's why Princess Elizaveta had retired so early, much to the disappointment of many.

She looked out the window, trying to guess the time in the absence of clocks in the reception hall. Perhaps there were clocks in the main room; maybe she could go check? No, too many people. She'd been instructed not to be seen, after all. She was supposed to remain still, in case any of the other people who had come here for some privacy noticed her. For if she was noticed, they might wonder what a servant girl in plain clothing was doing in the ballroom of royalty, and then they would find out what Vash was doing, and then-no, that was just foolish. _I shouldn't worry so much about this assignment. I'll just act natural._

Still, she couldn't stop her gaze from trailing towards the door connecting the ballroom and the reception hall every few minutes. She was getting stiff from standing so still in the shadows, and her eyes were getting sore. Maybe it would be alright if she found a place to sit for a little while. Vash probably wouldn't mind. He might even tell her off for overexerting herself. After all, the king had already established that she had a long journey ahead of her, and would need to help support Vash through it all. She worried a lot about her brother; he stressed himself out too much. If she could ease his burden for just a little while, perhaps it would help him open up and be happy.

Perhaps she'd rest just for a moment. Quietly, she made her way over to one of the large, curtained windows that lined the walls, and sat down on the window sill, her face veiled by the gauzy white fabric. The cloth reminded her of a wedding dress, soft, smooth, and flowing. She could imagine herself swaddled in the nice material, standing on the altar with someone she cared about, and Vash would stand by protectively… With a soft sigh, she smiled blissfully. What a happy day that would be…

She knew Elizaveta would laugh if Lili ever told her any of those happy imaginings. Not rudely, but… mirthlessly. Throughout all their talks and their meetings, Lili had never quite understood why the princess got so angry at the prospect of marriage. Sure, it wasn't quite the best idea to be marrying someone she'd just met, but it was possible that Elizaveta could learn to love someone-actually, more than probable, considering there was a curse in place-although, come to think of it, she could only name three people who knew about that. But that was probably going to change, and soon.

She sighed again, so soft that she could barely hear it herself. And she was sure no one else had heard until a voice sounded from above her head:

"Excuse me." Just those two words, yet they made her heart race.

Shaking ever so slightly, she looked up at the newcomer, a thin, aristocratic-looking young man. Was he a prince? If so, what was he doing here?

"I'm sorry, did I startle you?" His voice was soft, kind. "I heard you sigh, and I thought that perhaps you were unhappy about something, miss," he added.

Lili's eyes widened. A prince had just called her "miss". "You have good ears, sir," she replied shyly, her cheeks flushing a little under his close scrutiny.

The prince smiled gently. "Musicians are aided by having good ears, although it isn't a requirement. After all, Beethoven managed quite well without them." With a rueful laugh, he added, "It sometimes proves to be a mixed blessing, seeing as it's become painful to listen to the orchestra in there…" He offered her his gloved hand respectfully, and she carefully reached out and took it. "My name is Roderich Edelstein. It is a pleasure."

Lili stiffened. _This must be the prince Elizaveta mentioned a while ago…_

Looking at him closely, she could see why it was hard to read his expressions, but it seemed like he was somewhat preoccupied. "I'm Lili Zwingli, and I really shouldn't be talking to people here…" She trailed off, looking away. _Oh, I wasn't supposed to say that! What if he thinks I'm being rude, or laughs at me, or…_

Her panicked train of thought was stopped with a courteous nod from the other. "In that case, I'll leave you alone, then. But would you just tell me why you were sighing?" Lili looked back up into his face, his pale, delicately-wrought face, and something in her told her he could be trusted.

"I was sighing because...I was worried about my mistress, the princess… She doesn't really like being in public and, well, it's a little overwhelming for all of us…" She sighed again, looking at the floor and swinging her feet loosely against the wall.

Roderich's eyes widened in surprise, and she heard a small, clipped cry of recognition come out of his mouth. "Oh, so you're the sister Vash has mentioned! I was wondering why you looked so familiar…"

"Oh… You know Vash?" Lili asked, relaxing. That was safe. Vash would never bother to talk much to someone he disapproved of-so he liked this man, too. She giggled inwardly. Perhaps liked was too strong of a word for her standoffish, cynical brother.

The other's eyes crinkled in amusement at the same time, and he sat down next to her on the windowsill, his knees awkwardly close to his chest. "I had the honor of making his acquaintance today." There was no sign of sarcasm in his voice. He paused for a moment, a single hair on his head quivering slightly, then added, "It _i__s_ normal for him to just walk off in the middle of a conversation without an explanation, isn't it? I'm not sure he liked me much…"

This time Lili laughed out loud, a high, sweet sound. "Well, considering that he actually bothered to talk to you for a decent amount of time, I'd say he likes you quite a bit," she said, her initial feelings of discomfort vanishing completely. Already she could tell that Elizaveta's doubts about him being a true gentleman were unfounded.

"You know, I was talking to the princess just now, and she mentioned your name…" she said suddenly, watching him carefully for a reaction. His calm demeanor didn't even wobble; he simply raised an eyebrow, looking somewhat surprised. "Did she?" he asked, looking at Lili more intently.

"Yes," she continued hesitantly. "She said...something about an 'idiot named Gilbert' that she was going to whack with her frying pan, and then… she said that it was a 'nice gesture' for you to have helped her, but she also said something about you having a personal vendetta and your own agenda…"

She waved her small hands in front of Roderich's face, which had gone slightly slack. "Of course, that's just what she said. Not that I agree, though. I told her that maybe it would be good to think the best of the action, but she can be rather stubborn…" she added hastily. _Maybe I shouldn't have been talking about this with one of the princes… Oh, oh, maybe he thinks I'm just being a gossip, that it isn't my place to be talking about a princess's affairs. Maybe he's offended, maybe I've offended him…_

"I'm sorry," she whispered, straining to keep her voice even. "I shouldn't have told you any of that…" She trailed off. It seemed that he was no longer listening, instead staring off into space at a point just above her head.

"It's quite alright…" he replied, his gaze still fixated on some far-off object that he couldn't see. Even his voice had a faraway tone to it now, as if he was speaking to her through a tube. "It's about time I heard someone's honest opinion about me…" She could sense the connection they had had before slowly evaporating as he started to turn away.

She grabbed on his arm and tugged lightly, something she usually only did with Vash. "Don't be angry," she entreated. "She liked you better than any of the others… Honestly, from how she described some of them, I thought she was going to kill them, especially that Gilbert…" She tried for a laugh, but it came out awkward, sticking in her throat like a hairball. Roderich just shook his head, getting up from his seat on the windowsill.

"I'm not angry. What you said was probably the truth, anyway. After all, Gilbert and I do have some history of not getting along." He smiled again, but not quite the same way he had before. "I suppose I'll get out of your hair now, miss," he said, his voice still perfectly cordial. Lili opened her mouth to reply, but he was already walking away.

* * *

The hallways were dim. All that she could sense was her brother's tight grip on her wrist. Yet, as she stumbled along the carpeted corridors, her feet quickly began to recognize the path they took. They were going to their room, only by a longer, less obvious route.

Her brother's face was in shadow, but she knew he was worried. So much could go wrong in these final steps. And the plan left so much room for error-if the princess woke up, if someone found out, if anything-anything at all-happened and it wasn't according to plan, then the entire competition would crumble around the king and his final test.

_If we win, we're all geniuses. If we lose, we're all idiots._ Vash's words, spoken just before the dance. That had been before they had known Lili would be involved. And now, here they were, trying to find their way through the maze of confusion the king's last-minute additions had woven.

"Alright, Lili, here's the king's note." Even in the safety of their shared quarters, her brother still felt the need to speak almost silently. His words were terse, and his fingers twitched slightly after handing over the slip of paper. Scanning through it, she was relieved to see that no major changes had been made to the plan. Then she turned to the back.

"Brother, what does it mean, that there aren't going to be eliminations done early? So even people like Gilbert will be competing?"

"Shh!" Vash's whisper grew more strident. "Yes, because we don't have much of an excuse to get rid of him without it looking weird. He'll have his chance to search-hopefully, he'll be stupid enough to get lost and we'll be rid of him. Or maybe he'll be too cowardly to even try." He glanced around quickly, put his hands on Lili's shoulders, and looked closely at her. "Do you have a key?"

Lili nodded. "I've got one to the tower, too."

Visibly relaxing, he let out a heavy breath through his nose. "Alright, in that case, the king did equip you with enough. Even though you originally weren't supposed to be part of the information loop. Anything you need clarified?"

A quick shake of the head. Vash let go. They both glanced at the wall clock. 3:02 AM.

"We've got an hour. If there's anything you need to tell me, you need to do it now." Lili bit her lip, hesitating. Vash huffed in exasperation. "Oh, come on, I can't get mad at you now, of all times, you can say whatever you want." She nodded, swallowing. "Y-Yes, there is one thing…" she murmured faintly, her voice quailing under Vash's impatient stare.

"C-can you help one of the princes? He-he was nice to me, and the princess…thought he was alright… He said he met you, too…" she said, twining her hands together tightly. Vash would probably yell at her for picking favorites already, for trying to interfere with the competition process… But it had to be worth a shot. After all, he seemed like one of the few who would be willing to give the princess-her friend-a choice in anything.

And yet he smiled slightly. A very rare sight indeed. "You mean Roderich, don't you? Well, if that's all, I was planning on giving him a bit of a hint anyway. But you mustn't tell anyone that," he added warningly as Lili's eyes brightened. She reached out and enveloped her brother in a tight embrace, which he returned after only a moment's hesitation.

"Good luck, sister…"

Letting go, Vash stood up, evidently off to wander the empty halls. He looked over his shoulder as he reached the door. "You should probably pack a little before we leave. Be ready when I come back."

And the door swang shut silently, causing every candle in the room to flicker slightly-or go out.

* * *

**Nothing really to say here... Hopefully this chapter wasn't confusing... Whatever. Bad foreshadowing is bad. **

**Also, I guess this is the part where the plot really starts to pick up and action stuff happens. Yay?**

**Please review?**


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia, just this story. **

* * *

The ball had run all the way until dawn, when every one of the tipsy guests had fled the ballroom in unison. For some reason, it seemed that drunken people had a great aversion to sunlight, leaving them to deal with their pasty-faced, exhausted selves in the gloomy recesses of their guest rooms.

Roderich had to admit that he was a bit shaky on his feet after all that...ruckus, to put it politely. He wasn't drunk-he hadn't even allowed himself within five feet of the refreshments table-but even standing in the relative emptiness of the reception hall for half a night had taken its toll. That wasn't to mention how the discordant rumble from the orchestra had wormed its way into the middle of his migraine, its cacophony throbbing through his mind.

_If this is what's expected of a stately dance in the royal court, I feel rather bad for the servants, he thought to himself._ One of the few barely-coherent thoughts that he could process at the moment.

He wanted to drop his head on the desk of the guestroom and forget about everything. But, then again, the prince he'd been assigned to share a room with was already doing that. Roderich couldn't even tell if he was still breathing or just passed out from the insanity of the night. He supposed that meant that all the other princes had decided to let loose as soon as the princess had gone to bed.

Groaning, he finally gave in to his fatigue, slumping down on the four-poster bed and resting his head in his hands. If he'd just been prudent, if he'd just had the sense to leave early, like the princess had, maybe then he wouldn't be so hungover from lack of sleep. After all, it was-what, 11 in the morning? They all should have been getting on with their day, not moping about in their unnaturally gloomy rooms.

_Honestly, is this any way for a future king to act? How can your people trust their livelihoods to someone who can't even stand up straight after a single night?_ Roderich sighed. His consciousness had somehow taken on his father's voice, resonating from all the way across the country's borders.

He unsteadily stood up again, forcing himself through the disorienting rush of blood out of his head and the moment of dizziness that accompanied it. Maybe a glass of water would help him clear his mind. And then perhaps he'd have a little time to sneak into one of the orchestra's practice rooms and play for a while.

Walking over to the floor-length mirror, he unconsciously began straightening his cravat, then realized it was the same one he'd been wearing last night. The one Gilbert had been so kind as to almost choke him with. Roderich frowned and inspected it, unsurprised to see hazy fingerprints in the folds. He then turned to open his trunk, which was lying unobtrusively at the foot of the bed. His roommate gave a noncommittal grunt as he shifted through its neatly-folded contents, finally pulling out a fresh one and another shirt and coat, for good measure.

He glanced towards the sleeping blonde collapsed on the desk. He didn't seem to be in any danger of waking up soon. Quietly he dressed himself, his throbbing headache occasionally threatening to burst out of his head.

He thought he heard a slight rumbling in the back of his mind. But perhaps that was just part of the symphony's discord, blurring the lines between memory and reality.

At least, he hoped it was. Though that wouldn't explain why it seemed to be getting louder…

Shaking his head slightly, he walked out of the overly-salubrious room and into the maze of darkened hallways. That rumbling was still there, and now there was a far-off tone to it. He had better not be going mad… although, in the company of the totally unrefined people who had been at the cotillion-well, it _sounded_ a lot more respectable than 'ball'-he supposed he really couldn't be blamed.

Roderich frowned suddenly, stopping on the carpeted section of the hall. His footsteps barely echoed here… Something would have to be awfully loud to be making that much noise, and yet it _sounded_ real enough… And the noise level was still building, until entire snatches of scattered speech could be heard.

Well, as much as uncontrolled shrieking could be called _speech…_

"Let go! The king will hear about this!"

A calmer, though undeniably angry voice replied, "Glad that you have the same wants, because he's probably going to want to see you again down in the dungeons. Maybe then you'll explain the _real_ reason you vanished last night."

The first voice again, now closer. "I've already told you, I was on a mission for the king! He may pretend to have selective memory, but I certainly don't. Release me this instant, or I swear on my mother's grave, I will have you all hanged! Do you hear me?!"

The muffled clank of metal on carpet and the clomp of combat boots against the floor drew near, then grew distant again. _Something about that voice sounds familiar…_ Roderich thought, scowling in concentration. He'd been doing that a lot since last night, he noticed. Perhaps he was turning into Vash…

_Vash._ That was it. That was who the voice belonged to.

Roderich's eyes widened, and he quickly shoved his glasses securely on their perch before sprinting after the source of the hubbub, all fatigue forgotten.

He had to know what was going on.

He had no idea where he was going. Moving solely based on what he could hear, he raced through the hallways, only occasionally encountering frightened-looking servants. More often than not, he found himself backtracking, desperately trying to keep their voices in range. He had no idea who the second voice was-and there was probably a third person with them as well, judging from the pattern of footsteps-but it was probably some guard. Either way, he was an unimportant detail. He just had to get to Vash. To figure out what he'd done.

_I'm his head military advisor, and his best one, at that. My little sister is the princess's handmaid. We're not exactly expendable..._ As he ran, those words kept rushing through his head, over and over.

Apparently, it hadn't been quite like that after all…

He cursed under his breath, panting. The voices had vanished. He'd lost them.

All he knew at this point was that Vash was going to the dungeons. Not as a key advisor, but as a _prisoner_. The only reason he'd be going down there was… Roderich caught his breath… for treason.

Yet Vash was so obviously a prideful nationalist. And despite his blunt, frequently abrasive attitude, Roderich couldn't see him doing anything to hurt his own country. True, he had only met the other man yesterday, but yet… something just wasn't right about this whole affair.

_What would Father do in this situation?_ Roderich shook his head. When he started using his father as a model, he knew things was desperate. Still, it couldn't hurt to take his father's advice for once. All right, he'd start with step one. _Gather information about your current circumstances._

He slumped over to the wall, ready to scream in frustration. The adrenaline rush that had fueled his journey around the castle had completely abandoned him. He'd probably disgraced himself in front of half of the palace staff, running around like a fool. And now he was hopelessly lost. As if he wasn't already confused enough about his 'current circumstances'.

The grandfather clock standing beside him bonged loudly, causing him to flinch, almost crying out in shock, and his hands to instinctively fly to his ears. God, why did everything around here have to be so loud?

And, as if on cue, an ear-splitting trumpet blast sounded through the air. This time, he really did cry out in surprise and fall to the floor. As he sat up, wincing more out of frustration than pain, the trumpets sounded again, a discordant screech that obviously wasn't even attempting to stay on key. Its strident wail had probably woken even the most incapacitated of the guests in the palace, and was probably also echoing around the adjoining city.

It was a signal. A summoning.

Roderich stood up now, thoroughly awakened. He needed to find the other man, and fast. Actually, he didn't even need to find Vash-he'd get whatever background information he needed now, and then maybe whatever was going on would make sense. This _had_ to be linked to what was happening to Vash. There was no other way.

As if on cue, a young servant scurried down the hallway, still toting a brush in his hand. He looked to be about Lili's age and size, but when he stopped his harried rush beside Roderich, what came out of his mouth was far from shy:

"Oi, you idiot! Get your ass down to the reception hall _now_, bastard!" His amber eyes glared almost murderously from under a mat of dark brown hair, and a strange hair curl sticking out from the generally straight mop bobbed up and down in the force of his angry words.

Roderich blinked, startled, then opened his mouth to reply coolly. That was when the servant, who had apparently decided he was taking too long, grabbed his arm and dragged him along behind him. He had a surprisingly tight grip for such a young child; then again, Roderich admittedly wasn't exactly the paragon of physical fitness, and wasn't about to protest a free ride to the hall, anyway. He'd just get even more lost on his own.

_This servant kid really needs to learn some manners… Lili could teach him a thing or two…_

He pulled himself short, making the younger boy turn and level a death glare at him. Where _was_ Lili, anyway? Probably-hopefully-in the reception hall already, with the princess in tow. He could talk to her as soon as any announcements were over.

The younger boy, now muttering something unspeakable under his breath, simply stomped on the man's foot, ignoring his startled yelp. "Come on, stupid bastard. The king's got some stupid announcement and we haven't got all day…"

The majority of the princes were already assembled when they reached the hall, looking conspicuously bleary-eyed. The boy finally let go of his arm, allowing Roderich to double over, gasping from their trek. Of course, it hadn't actually been much of a long journey-more like a brisk run-walk down two or three corridors. But he wasn't about to admit that. Luckily, he really didn't stand out from the rest of the hung-over princes.

Smirking conspicuously, the other boy leveled a contemptuous glare at Roderich-as if he hadn't been doing that for the past few minutes. Suddenly, he stuck out his small, calloused hand in front of Roderich's face. "Hey, pansy bastard, what's your name? I'm Lovino." Roderich looked back up at the boy, almost disbelieving. _Does he really think I'm about to answer him in this state?_ "Roderich… Roderich Edelstein…" he managed to choke out, still wheezing.

Another loud trumpet blast, this time issued right from out of the reception hall, startled him out of his stupor. Everyone, even the most exhausted-looking princes, looked up to the front, staring at the king. Roderich stared right up at the man, eyes narrowed. Maybe now he'd finally get some answers.

Instead, all he got was a statement that raised more questions than it answered:

"The princess has gone missing."

* * *

**I just found out a few days ago that "Lili" isn't even a commonly used name for Liechtenstein (although she has no official human name). Whoops. Hope you guys don't mind. Also, the cliffhanger is just... what. Actually, this whole chapter is just... what. I suppose that's what I get for staying up all night reading. **

**Can someone tell me whether the rating needs to be changed for Romano's mouth? I'm a little bit unsure as what to what to do for mild (okay, not so mild, but at least there were no f-bombs) swearing, but I also didn't want to censor him too much since, well, the swearing is kind of part of his character... No worries, I'll try to keep this fanfic clean for the rest of it, since I am not allowed to swear at home.**

**Last but not least, thank you to everyone who's reviewed, favorited, or followed this story. I really appreciate any and all support nice people like you give me. **

**Thanks for reading, and please review? **


	7. Chapter 7

_**Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia. I can't come up with a concept that cool.**_

* * *

_I suppose I'm in a bit of a predicament, shall we say._

_Yes, I'm referring to the fact that I'm locked in a small apartment-like space and have no idea where I am._

_But I'm also referring to the fact that this place has nothing in it but a bed, a small trunk full of clothes, and a door. Locked, of course. No windows, unless they're hidden._

_Nothing._

_Whoever brought me here evidently didn't care much if I got bored to death._

_Lili's here too, but she's asleep on top of my trunk, and I don't think she'd know what's going on, either._

_Now, hopefully I can remember all this to write it down after I get home to wring the neck of whomever is responsible…_

_I suppose that we're being treated decently, by a prisoner's standards. After I got over the initial shock of waking up in an unfamiliar bed, I've figured a bit more about this mess. It could be a lot worse, honestly. At least whoever brought me here brought a trunk for me, and brought Lili along, too-but that's another clue. It definitely indicates that someone's planned all this._

_Come to think of it, why is Lili here? I honestly doubt Vash would allow something like this... He'd probably kill anyone who came close to his sister. Unless he's been duped, just like us._

_Or is Vash on the other side, too? That's a scary thought. But I've got a lot of those running around my head. A lot of theories, each more convoluted than the rest._

_I suppose we'll just have to wait it out. But if this involves what I think it involves, I think I might be sick._

* * *

The effect was immediate.

Come to think of it, in all of his thirteen years, he'd never seen the idiots in this place be completely silent.

Lovino shook his head, scowling. There had to be some reason that the king had chosen to drop this nugget of information on everyone at the same time, including the servants. Probably because he was a flamboyant bastard on all accounts, and wanted a little bit of drama. _Annoying._

Still, _someone_ must've known this had happened before the king had-after all, he didn't think that jerk of a king cared enough to check on the princess-his _only daughter_, for heaven's sake-without prompting. Maybe the princess's little maid friend-Lili, one of the few people Lovino could tolerate-had found out first. He scanned the crowd of disbelieving faces, cursing under his breath as he recognized none as the smaller, blond girl's.

"Damn…" he whispered aloud. This whole thing just kept getting weirder and weirder.

Suddenly, the dam burst, and a barrage of questions flowed forth from every corner of the ballroom.

"What do you mean, gone missing?"

"When did this happen?"

"How is that even possible?!"

"What are we supposed to do?"

"What about, like-"

"SILENCE!" the king roared, his stormy gray eyes giving off a steely, manic glint under thick silver eyebrows.

Lovino rolled his eyes. Of course, the king was probably enjoying dragging out this whole affair, just to drive them all mad. And whatever other motive he had for allowing any of this to happen probably required him to hold out for a while-because everyone knew that if the king was really worried, the entire army would already be out scouring the kingdom, overturning villages and arresting 'suspicious' people on the way. No one in the kingdom would be able to rest without his permission until the princess was found.

Well, it was likely that no one would rest anyway, not with this information hanging over their heads.

Lovino didn't know the princess. He, like all the other servants, had only seen her from a distance, and for a very short space of time. Lovino himself had only seen her once, in the midst of what looked to be a pretty big argument with the king and two other princes-one of whom had been this Roderich fellow, interestingly enough. Later, on the gossip mill, he'd found out that it was because the other prince had been… He shuddered angrily. No, he wasn't going to think about perverted bastards like that fellow.

The king's strong, intimidating voice continued, rising high into the air and echoing slightly among the frescoes on the ceiling. "She was stolen from her chambers some time last night, and we can safely presume that she is locked up somewhere. We caught her kidnapper as he was trying to sneak back into the castle, but he hasn't said anything as to her whereabouts. All we know at the moment is that she's hidden somewhere in this kingdom."

The king paused for a moment, turning to pace along the length of the raised dais he stood upon, and the audience, now rapt with attention once again, was quiet enough that Lovino could hear Roderich's barely-audible intake of breath. He scowled, his amber eyes narrowing in annoyance. The pathetic bastard couldn't _still_ be panting, could he? All he'd done was run down a few hallways, honestly. But no, that wasn't it-passing a sidelong glance at the other man, he saw wide brown eyes focused on entirely on the king from behind gleaming glasses and a face that had visibly blanched quite a bit.

_He knows something. More than what the king's giving us._ Lovino couldn't help but feel irked by that thought. So this foreigner knew more about this whole thing than any of the trusted servants here did. How reassuring.

Continuing, the king raised his weathered hand. He didn't look very concerned or angry, but his eyes were glowing in an odd way, a way that made a cold shudder run through every one of the guests who dared to meet his eyes, a way that made Lovino unconsciously clench his fists around his broom and dig his fingernails into his palms. "To all the princes in this room I offer a challenge: help us search the kingdom, and whichever prince finds the princess first may take her hand in marriage.

"But first!" he rushed on, smoothly quelling the outcry of excitement that burst forth from the male population in front of him-_as if he hadn't been expecting it_-"I must offer you a warning: the princess may not take kindly to you at first." He smiled coldly out at the crowd.

There was audible grumbling among the throng; evidently, not one of them had managed to get on the princess's good graces. Lovino had to stifle a laugh behind his hand. As if any of those arrogant bastards had a chance.

"But there is a way for that to be easily remedied; a simple kiss on the lips should do it. Perhaps it will even be enough to make her-" There he paused, glancing around impressively, and Lovino had to resist the urge to run up to the man and whack him with the broom he wielded- "_love you_."

His gaze prowled challengingly among the crowd, locking eyes with several of the princes in turn, as if he didn't know how important that information was and was looking for confirmation. They stared back, sheer lustful excitement marring the thin veneer of worry and consternation that had been covering their faces until then.

_Bastards._ None of them really cared about the princess. They just wanted to marry her because she was pretty and so they could have the power of her nation on their side. _It's no wonder she keeps a frying pan under her bed… Anyone treated like that all the time would have to be stupid not to._

And now… with this new development, suddenly, everything made sense. The isolation, the reaction of the king at the ball, and now, how he was carefully and deliberately phrasing everything he said… All of it had been in preparation for this moment, this one, big reveal.

He heard Roderich-still next to him, but standing straight now, his eyes still focused on the king-utter something under his breath, so quietly that Lovino had to lean in to hear:

"And what about the princess? What about what she wants? Is she safe? Will she be _happy_?" These questions seemed to be genuinely upsetting for the young man, his face a pale mask of honest emotions, his eyes swimming with a mixture of sadness, fear, and righteous anger from behind his glasses. And seeing the other man like that told Lovino that maybe, just maybe, he wasn't just another prince.

Lovino turned and stared up at him, his eyes tracing the delicately wrought features. (Damn, even the pansy bastard was taller than he was). "You're going to find the princess," he stated blandly. When the man didn't respond, he prodded him with the tip of his broom handle. "Oi, bastard-Roderich-whatever your name is, I'm talking to you."

Roderich turned, his lips forming a thin, strict line. "Of course I will," he said, his eyes now resolute and alert. "I won't let anyone take advantage of her." He blinked, his dark eyes peering directly into Lovino's amber, and for just a moment, Lovino saw a glint of the kind of man who could lift mountains, redirect rivers, shape a kingdom or tear it down all on his own, hidden deep under the aristocratic visage. Then that moment was over, and again he was just a pale youth with no physical abilities whatsoever.

"But I'm going to need your help first. I need to find Vash Zwingli."

Narrowing his eyes once again, Lovino crossed his arms, his broom tapping against the marble floor impatiently. "And how do you know about Vash?" Another thought crossed his mind, and he changed tacks. "Actually, _what_ do you know about Vash?"

Surprisingly, the other man quickly returned the gesture, crossing his arms and glaring coolly back. "If you must know, I made his acquaintance yesterday at the dance. And at the moment, I don't know much. But I'll need to find out." Brown eyes-dark and piercing-stared into his, full of a strange fire, a strange fury.

Lovino raised an eyebrow and snorted. "Oh? Are you sure you've got the right Zwingli in mind? The other one's the princess's handmaid-the only one who got to know her before yesterday happened."

"Yes, in due time, but as I said, I have a hunch about Vash I'm going with here. And, if that hunch is right, we won't be seeing Lili any time soon," Roderich replied ominously, his eyes darkening until they were almost black.

Lovino shivered a little in spite of himself. No, he wasn't scared, dammit! Just a little bit worried about-well, what was going to happen to this Lili girl and her brother. Something had obviously gone wrong for them.

Something was wrong with this whole setup, really.

His thoughts were interrupted as the crowd began to disperse and each person searched for other members of their faction, alight with excitement. Cries of names began to fill the air, multiple voices melding together tumultuously. No one else noticed the king slip off the podium and stride down the hall alone. But both Lovino and Roderich's eyes followed the movement of his thick ermine cape as it trailed like a red flag from his shoulders.

"So, will you help me?"

Both looked each other over. Their eyes met, stared into the recesses of each other's souls. Then, at the same moment, their hands stretched out and entwined in a firm handshake.

_"Let's go."  
_

* * *

_**I changed the rating just for this chapter, in which we get another blast of Lovino's mouth. I think it'll just be him swearing, though. Still, just to be safe... since I'm more than a little bit paranoid of this not turning out well. **_

**_I have some strange love for cliffhangers. I think all writers like dragging it out so that their readers nearly have apoplectic fits while waiting for the next chapter (especially work published in serials, like a lot of Charles Dickens's works were originally). Either that, or they like making their writing as emotionally scarring as possible (e.g. John Green, who always finds a way to kill one of the most awesome characters ever). Since I can't cram both in here, I'll just settle for annoying you all to no end. Sorry? ^-^ _**

**_By the way, anyone have theories about what's going on here? I want to know if I'm giving too much away or if my writing is confusing the heck out of you all as you read. So please PM me if you think you know what's going on. I need to know what you think so that this can be less messed-up at some point. _**

_**Thanks for reading, and please review?**_


	8. Chapter 8

_**I forgot to do the name to character guide in the previous chapters that introduced a new character (although this name is canon, I think, so it shouldn't be an issue if I just do it now). **_

_**Lovino=Italy Romano **_

_**Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia.**_

* * *

The air was warm and thick, sitting heavily in the small apartment-like space. Perhaps that was just the by-product of having no windows in the place.

For a kidnapping attempt that didn't seem much like a kidnapping attempt, Elizaveta supposed that was to be expected.

She groaned and rubbed her eyes again, irritably standing up from the neatly-made bed. Normally she wouldn't bother making it-it was a flagrant waste of time, in her opinion-but right now, she was bored enough to try anything.

Glancing around the room cagily for the umpteenth time, she surveyed her surroundings, hoping for something she'd overlooked to pop out at her. Yet it was still the same locked rosewood door, the same, smaller bathroom door, and the same mahogany four-poster bed that she saw. The same, strangely curved stone walls that circled the place like the walls of a fishbowl on almost every side. The same Lili draped peacefully over Elizaveta's trunk, sleeping so soundly it was if she'd just fallen asleep packing. Or unpacking. She couldn't tell, since the trunk still lay solidly, disappointingly, shut.

_What time is it now?_ She couldn't even attempt to guess; it could have been 6 in the morning or 12 noon, for all she knew. _How long have we been here?_ Yet another unanswerable question. All she knew was that it couldn't have been for too long. After all, there was a limit to how long one could sleep.

_Or was there? _Elizaveta was still feeling groggy, yet try as she might, she couldn't fall back asleep. Too riled up, she supposed. Too confused.

Stepping carefully over the creaking floorboards-who knew how sturdy this place was-she reached the door to the bathroom, about to lethargically look it over yet again, then stopped, sighing. Gah, how she hated being cooped up inside anywhere. It felt like she was about to explode, which was probably the by-product of having once been given free reign over a vast garden for her own. She missed the pleasant aroma of flowers she'd grown so used to, the fresh air of the outdoors, so unlike this prison cell of a room. It was so cooped up in here that she and Lili would probably be stifled in just a few short days.

Blast it. She had to get a look at what was in that trunk. And she was absolutely sick of having to wear this nightgown for any longer.

As gently as she could, she lifted Lili's small frame bridal-style and placed her carefully on the bed. She shifted and murmured a bit on top of the covers-something about Vash? That was all she could discern before the younger girl lapsed back into dreaming silence.

She crouched down and flipped open the trunk lid, at first seeing the normal items anyone would pack inside-some clothing (all feminine articles-none of the trousers she used to wear in secret, she noted with disgust), a few toiletries stuffed neatly in a smaller bag, the like. Shifting these aside, she felt around for the bottom of the box. Surely those couldn't be the only things in a trunk this large.

Suddenly, her hand found something hard and smooth. She felt around on the surface, and the tips of her fingers grated along it with a slightly metallic sound. Almost like… Her eyes widened, and she scrabbled madly at the item, finally managing to pull it out, along with several dresses that slid sloppily to the floor. Yes, this had to be it. There was no mistaking.

She stared, bewildered but pleased, at the inclusion of her favorite frying pan among the everyday items.

_Who would pack _this_ in my trunk? _She wondered. _Who but myself and…_

Her eyes widened again, and she sat back quickly, accidentally letting her pan clatter against the hardwood floor. The sound reverberated through the small, dimly-lit room, causing the other occupant of the room to jump slightly, and Elizaveta's eyes to fly to the small figure.

Her eyes locked on the other's now-opening green, a slight chill running up her spine at what she'd just realized.

_Myself… and Lili. _

* * *

Vash's first thought after getting dumped in the dungeon was probably a common one: _What the hell?_

Evidently, from the shocked look on the face of the prison master, that's what he had been thinking as well. After all, it wasn't every day that the king's closest advisor was thrown onto the polished stone floor of a detainment cell with no explanation from the guard other than, "The king will be down to see this one soon."

And it certainly wasn't every day that said advisor happened to be one of the prison master's closest friends.

Now, as the footsteps of the guard echoed through the vast stone complex for the last time, Vash found himself staring at the well-muscled back of the prison master in frustration, trying to silently will the other man to turn around. He had to talk to him, had to explain what was going on and calm him down. They'd known each other for years, and the mere fact that he was showing any outward emotion was, Vash knew, a sign of extreme confusion. Obviously a bad sign.

Glancing around him from through the steel bars of his prison-you never knew if any of the other prisoners would be listening, and he couldn't chance having anyone else hear about this-he finally gave up and resorted to a terse whisper, "Hey. Hey, Ludwig."

The other man turned slightly, but continued to stare pointedly at the door through which the guard had vanished. His rifle was cocked thoughtfully at his side, and his gloved hand clenched momentarily around the barrel, but other than that, he gave no indication of having noticed. Yet years of knowing the other man had taught him to recognize the subtle message in his friend's actions: stay put.

Another surge of irrational emotion spilled though Vash. Staying put wasn't going to help him in this situation-running in guns-blazing was probably about ten times more effective, or so to speak. But where would he run? Who would he shoot?

Instinctively, his hand reached to his shoulder, where his rifle should have been positioned, then tightened on itself, a knot of pure frustration. None of this was according to plan; nothing here made any sense. The guard-the one who'd hauled him all the way down here-was supposed to have been notified of Vash's journey and when he'd be returning. In fact, when he'd left with his-luggage, to put it simply-in tow, there had been no guard posted by the doors of the castle, like the king had said, and there wasn't scheduled to be a changing of the guard until after noon! Obviously the king had told his guards to keep an eye out for him. Yet that didn't make sense, because according to the plan, he wasn't supposed to be spotted, much less caught by the very army he helped to command.

That was it. Loyalty be damned, he was going to shoot the king full of holes right after his explanation.

Somewhere in the distance, a door slammed heavily against steel, its dull ring echoing eerily throughout the prison complex and bouncing off the great stone walls. Vash winced at the sound, forcing himself to keep the shivering to a minimum. Everything here just seemed a little… off. Doors that were just a little too short for anyone to fit comfortably. Mildew slowly seeping in through the tiniest cracks in the porous, eternally-damp bedrock. Acoustics that would have been perfect for a musical hall, yet only magnified a ringing sense of paranoia in everyone within. It wouldn't surprise him to find out that this place was designed specifically to put people ill at ease.

_Oh, who am I kidding._ He was practically alone in a top-security prison without his gun. Sure he could shoot the king's head off-and get shunted to the guillotine before the crack of the gunshot stopped echoing through this gloomy excuse of a place.

Another slam reverberated through the narrow, torchlit hallways. This time Vash gave up the pretext of being unaffected; he shuddered openly. Honestly, it was a wonder Ludwig stayed sane after years of working in this place; somehow, the stoic young man had found a way to get used to it.

Undoubtedly, the other prisoners had heard his whispered appeal to his friend. Not that he'd seen or heard anyone else-all the other political prisoners had probably been executed long ago.

_Executed. _Was that what was going to happen to him?

His thoughts were moving too fast, too erratically, for him to find a reasonable answer.

He called out again softly, his voice stumbling over the word and the lump that had suddenly appeared in his throat. "Ludwig…"

Yet another slam, and his friend finally turned. His pale face was in shadow, dark blue eyes glinting dimly in the wavering light. Vash's hands curled around the bars of the prison and he leaned outward, as if willing himself through to the other side, where he belonged.

Even with barely any lighting, the concentrated frown on the other man's face was apparent. "Why are you here? Didn't you tell the guards-" He glanced around him carefully, then walked closer, lowering his voice to a throbbing whisper. "That you were initiating the competition process?"

Vash would've rolled his eyes had he not been so stressed. "Well, clearly that didn't work. Which is why I'm here. Obviously there's been a miscommunication." For some strange reason, the words stuck in his throat as he said them.

And Ludwig obviously wasn't convinced, either. "Still, though," he continued, "why? Why any of this? And why his daughter, the one I'm told looks just like his beloved wife?"

"His wife who I'm told happened to hate him because they married simply for their nations and died during childbirth? Yes, I would see why he'd hate his daughter! Want to give her hell for taking his wife away! I see why he'd saddle her with a burden to carry for life in a moment of grief and then exploit it for himself!" Vash's voice was slowly escalating, almost beyond caring for who was hearing him. His fists clenched; his entire frame shook with the vehemence of his words. "Look, the point isn't to talk about the king's personal life, it's to talk about why I'm here. The political side."

"And, in this case, I'm afraid those two things are one and the same."

Instinctively, both men leapt back, Vash's eyes swiftly adjusting to see another man in the background.

The king.

Vash's face, if possible, blanched even further, but the king didn't seem to notice. The torchlight flickered on his normally calm face, revealing-could that be?-a slight, enigmatic smile. He continued on, a light, conversational tone in his voice, as if he were oblivious to the tension in the room. "I'll admit that my emotions are tied to my actions as a ruler-perhaps more than they should be. To be an effective advisor, you'll need to factor that in when dealing with other nations' seemingly arbitrary actions. But you don't seem to be the greatest judge of those emotions, so by all means, let's talk politics, cut and dry."

The sound of his voice almost seemed to ripple and bend its way through the stagnant air, sending a cold shudder surging through Vash's bloodstream. But he refused to let the king see him perturbed; that was probably what he wanted, anyway. He threw a quick glance at Ludwig, who simply faded into the background like part of the mildew on the wall.

"I hope you realize that I'm not going to beg for mercy because of something we planned together," he said as curtly as possible, his eyes cold and unyielding. Internally he cringed at how normal his words sounded. Apparently, the sheer force of habit was enough to trump every emotion he could feel.

He didn't know what he was expecting in response to a comment like that-maybe immediate decapitation-but it certainly wasn't this soft, strange laughter. It was eerie, unnerving, and completely unlike anything he'd ever seen before, and it was coming from the king.

"I wasn't expecting you to." Another laugh, this one shorter, but disturbing nonetheless. "But it's good that you understand the need for strength at all times. You can't let your enemies-or your friends, for that matter-know anything about the truth.

"And that's why you're here. You're here so that they don't get suspicious and wonder just how lax our security is to allow something like this to happen. You're here so that they don't underestimate us for the wrong reasons." The man smiled, his eyes still holding onto traces of mirth. Vash was starting to wonder if he was entirely sane.

"If that's all you were confused about, I will take my leave now," the king said leisurely, his odd expression never fading. He turned, nodded at Ludwig, and made for the door. Then he stopped and turned, facing Vash once again. "And one more thing:

"I don't hate my daughter. Quite the opposite, in fact. But love in itself is a form of weakness-it leaves you vulnerable, afraid, hopeless. And sometimes, it causes otherwise rational people to make decisions in fits of emotion that they later regret, but can never take back.

The king smiled genuinely, melancholy shimmering deep within his eyes, and for a moment, he looked like less of an automaton and more like a man.

"So be careful with those you care about, or you'll end up like me. Or worse."

* * *

**Sorry for not updating sooner; we got very busy very fast this summer. And I didn't want to keep you all waiting, so I haven't edited this much. Hopefully it's not that bad; I'll probably make edits to this chapter later on. **

**And the king has a backstory. Just because he's the primary antagonist doesn't mean he isn't human, too. He's not doing what he's been doing because of any specific evil within him, either, he's just another man. Just something I wanted to get out there. **

**Thank you for sticking with me thus far, and please review?**


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